A Season For Romance

by Marks, V. R.

  He’d loved this house as a kid and still did. It represented everything he’d missed out on. Love. Family. Sanctuary. All the things he was finally going to have.

  As soon as he found a wife.

  “How long ago was that?”

  Surprised, he answered, “Three months. She didn’t tell you?”

  “You think I’d be here at five in the morning if I knew you lived here?”

  “A man can dream,” he murmured. He looked up and realized she’d heard him. But she didn’t look shocked or insulted. She looked like she might be considering the idea. Bad plan. The last thing he needed was to get involved with a woman who wasn’t staying.

  She pointed to the candy bar. “Have I earned the rest of my chocolate yet?”

  Matt handed it to her, then aimed and threw the wrapper into the trash. His body couldn’t handle watching her eat another bite. “When did you talk to Vi?”

  He could smell the chocolate from where he sat. Was she as sweet? It took all his willpower not to go to her and sample the candy on her lips.

  “Earlier in the week. Monday, I guess.”

  He couldn’t believe it. He’d spoken with Vi twice since then. “She’s been a little flighty lately, but I can’t believe she forgot I was living here.”

  She paused, her hand midway to her mouth. “Flighty how?” Concern colored her eyes a deep fern.

  “Nothing major,” he said, recalling conversations with Violet over the past few weeks. “Just a little forgetful. I didn’t think much of it at the time.” He added as an afterthought, “She said you were on a business trip.”

  “Matt, I haven’t been out of town in months.” She glanced at the clock. “We need to call her.”

  “Number’s by the phone.” He made no move to stand.

  “I know her number.”

  He didn’t reply. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Matt flipped through the pages of one of the books on the table. “Aren’t you going to call?”

  “It’s just on six in the morning.”

  “She’s been up for an hour at least. Didn’t you know she got up early?” He couldn’t resist the dig. He had been watching over her grandmother for years, first taking care of her yard then taking over the house when she moved out. Jessica hadn’t visited in all that time.

  He knew they got together once a month, but never in Blakely. Usually Vi went to Chicago or they met in New York. He knew Jessica thought she had good reason for staying away, but that didn’t change the fact if Vi had a problem, she called him. And he didn’t mind. She was the closest thing to family he had. Violet had been there for him when his father hadn’t.

  ***

  Jessica’s morning was not going at all according to plan. She was supposed to be in bed by now. Matt’s words came back to her, warming her.

  Alone.

  She was supposed to be in bed alone. Stifling a yawn, she turned away from the list of phone numbers on the wall while she dialed.

  Matt winked at her before leaving the room. Heat flooded her body and she reminded herself he wasn’t hers.

  “Is someone dead?”

  She stared at the phone, wondering if she had gotten the wrong number. “Gran?”

  “Jessica, dear. It’s lovely to hear from you. How are you?”

  Now that sounded more like the matriarch of the Heymore family. And if she could have found a way, all of Blakely, Jessica silently amended. “Tired and confused. Do you normally answer the phone that way?”

  “Only when someone interrupts my yoga. Hurry up dear, you’re interrupting my television workout. This new chicky-babe is good.”

  “Gran, be serious.” Yoga?

  “Honey, when the phone rings this early, it only means one of two things; somebody’s had a baby or somebody’s died. At my age, odds are it’s the second one.”

  She had a point. “Well, it’s neither. I wanted to let you know I’m in town. Why didn’t you tell me I had to share the house with Matt?” Jessica knew she sounded petulant, but she couldn’t help it.

  “You and Matt are living together? That’s wonderful! Where?”

  “In your house,” she said, exasperated.

  “Really? Well, it’s about time someone lived in it. It’s been sitting empty for months.”

  Jessica felt her stomach tighten and clutched a nearby chair. What was going on? “Gran, Matt said you asked him to move in three months ago.”

  “Did I?” Her grandmother sounded vague. “I suppose I did. But why are you just now moving in if he’s been there for months?”

  “Because I just got into town an hour ago. And I didn’t know he lived here.”

  “Just got back? Where have you been?”

  It was like they hadn’t talked for years. Jessica fought to control the fingers of panic that gripped the back of her neck. “Chicago, Gran. Remember? I’ve been working there for the last three years.”

  “That’s nice dear. Well, it’s about time you and Matt settled down.”

  She and Matt a couple? She choked out a laugh at the irony. Just when she finally gave up that dream, her grandmother latched on to it. “Matt and I aren’t settling down. We’re not even seeing each other.”

  Violet went on as if she hadn’t heard a word. “I think it’s important for a couple to live together for a while before they set a date. Not too long, of course.”

  “You do?” That was news to her since Gran had been against that very thing when it involved Bill. “Gran, let’s get together for lunch. There seems to be some confusion about Matt and me.”

  “That sounds lovely. You can come and see my new place.”

  They agreed to a time, and Jessica hung up.

  “Interrupting yoga?” Matt fought to keep a straight face and lost.

  Jessica stuck her tongue out. Why was it so easy for this man to get under her skin? “You could have warned me.”

  Matt topped off his cup. “About yoga?”

  She shook her head, still trying to make sense of the phone conversation. He’d been gone for most of it, she realized, coming back when she was talking about lunch. “And other things.”

  He lifted the pot in her direction but she waved him off. The last thing she needed if she was going to get some sleep was more coffee. And she would need sleep if she was facing her grandmother for lunch.

  Matt reached for the forgotten bowl of cereal on the table and began cleaning up. “What do you mean?”

  She gritted her teeth and forced herself to keep calm. “Flighty? That’s how you describe a woman who doesn’t remember telling you to move in?”

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  The Sheriff's Proposal

  By V.R. Marks

  -One-

  "Marry me, Ruth."

  The words echoed in her head as Ruth Williams sat at the end of the tall counter nearest the kitchen. It had been a struggle to think of anything else since the sheriff had unexpectedly popped the question two nights ago.

  At some point in the past, she'd dreamed of a husband and family of her own, but life happened, priorities shifted, and things just worked out differently. She was happy with the differences and happy here, with her busy restaurant, close friends, and her house on the lake.

  Sipping the Midnight Rooster's house blend of coffee – black today to match her Monday mood – she checked over the supply list for the third time that morning. Her only hope was to focus on other things. Business things. Things that made sense.

  This Thanksgiving was hardly her first community event. She'd thrown this holiday celebration feast almost as long as she'd owned the restaurant. She and her staff always had a good time during both the prep and serving of the meal. The extra work paid off in the fun and camaraderie of seeing nearly everyone in town stop by at some point during the day.

  But this year's dinner felt more important than others in recent memory. Haleswood was growing in so many good ways and they'd been through a na
sty shock when a madman had come to town, determined to kill her niece, Allie.

  While she hadn't been here for the danger, she knew the community needed the warmth, love, and stability of the annual event more than ever before.

  She tapped pen against paper and added another turkey to the list, along with two more bags of potatoes. The youngest O'Kelly boy was sixteen and eating everything in sight. The newest professor at the college had three young sons and an adorable daughter who wasn't quite four years old yet. She had yet to meet a toddler who didn't love creating mashed potato sculptures.

  On a personal level, it was most important to her that Ross Carpenter was returning to the annual feast. Having fed him as a teenager, and knowing he would be bringing Allie – as his fiancée – along with the rest of his team from his private security firm, more food seemed prudent.

  Nothing would be wasted and everyone in town loved the thick 'leftover' sandwiches she added to the menu for a few days after the holiday.

  When her business partner, Jeanne, passed by with the coffee pot, Ruth covered her mug. Fighting off jitters from the sheriff's proposal, more caffeine was the last thing she needed. Unfortunately, the move only prompted Jeanne to plant her hands on her hips and stare.

  "Want to talk about it?"

  No. "Nervous stomach today, that's all."

  Jeanne's snort made it clear she wasn't buying the story, but she let it slide. Ruth appreciated the benefit of their lifelong friendship. She just wasn't ready to share any of the personal details plaguing her thoughts this morning.

  She gave herself a mental shake, irritated with her theatrics. Her current predicament about a marriage proposal was hardly a plague and she wasn't sure there were details worth sharing. Yet. If she gave the answer she planned to give –

  The bell over the front door chimed and in walked the real cause of her jitters. A veritable chorus of greetings followed Haleswood's sheriff, Ben Cochran, as he hooked his jacket on the coat rack and made his way to his usual spot at the end of the counter.

  They exchanged greetings as they'd done every morning for as long as she could recall. Today was just a typical Monday, like so many other days when she pretended not to notice how his khaki shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and tucked neatly into the trim waistline of his dark jeans. Another normal morning, as if they didn't both know he'd changed all the rules when he'd flashed that ridiculous diamond ring two nights ago.

  "Marry me, Ruth."

  Her heart had done a happy skip at the time and the 'yes!' was almost past her lips when her head crashed the party.

  They'd been friends for years, but something more had started – at that first community Thanksgiving dinner he'd attended as the new sheriff. What started as friendly flirting had changed when they'd both had too much champagne at the New Year's bash. What might have been a one-night stand turned into a discreet relationship with benefits that had lasted almost a full year now and made her feel thirty again.

  The fact that no one in town had managed to unearth their secret was a testament to how well their system was working. Why did he have to mess all of that up now?

  The diamond was still in the little velvet box on her dresser. She narrowed her gaze at him, frustrated just thinking about the curve ball he'd thrown at her. The stubborn man had insisted the ring stay with her while she considered his proposal.

  Ruth frowned at her list, made another notation while the waitress at the counter poured him a cup of coffee.

  Two nights ago, he'd stopped by to check on her and, typically well informed, asked if she needed assistance assembling her new treadmill. She could have called any number of people, but he'd been right there and she enjoyed his company.

  Instructions, diagrams, a few extra pieces, and two attempts at setting the computer made her grateful for his assistance by the time they toasted success with a beer.

  Grateful for help with an exercise machine didn't mean she wanted a wedding or needed a husband.

  She couldn't figure out why she was angry about it. They shared a mutual affection, respect, and an excellent sex life, but up until the treadmill she didn't think what they had required any formality.

  With a nod in his direction, she took the coward's way out and retreated to the kitchen. She should have known his thoughts were meandering down that path. He'd been practically hovering over her since she got back from her vacation cruise. She hadn't liked the death threat she'd received any more than he did, but he could hardly do anything about it now that she was home safe and the criminal was in custody.

  He'd nearly admitted the scare was the catalyst for his proposal.

  "Life's for living," he'd said, opening the jeweler's box. "Let's not waste any more time."

  She pushed aside the memory of that sparkling diamond ring and pinned her food order list to the bulletin board with a bit more force than necessary.

  "No place for temper in the kitchen," Jeanne deadpanned.

  Ruth tried to smile. "Sheriff's here. He'll want his usual."

  "Sure." Jeanne added two sausage patties to the grill and started whisking up eggs for the sheriff's omelet.

  "Wouldn't hurt him to go a day without sausage," Ruth grumbled on her way to the freezer.

  "Did the man serve you with papers?"

  "What?" She paused with a hand on the door, the cold air turning her jeans cold against her legs. "Of course not."

  "Never seen you quite so out of sorts with anyone."

  Ruth ignored that. She lost her temper as often as the next person; she just didn't show it here at the restaurant. Of course when she did lose her temper, she typically knew the 'why' of it.

  She stopped lying to herself. The proposal was at the heart of her tantrum. Almost. What she wanted more than a diamond was to know if it was love, convenience, or Ben's mile-wide protective streak at the heart of his proposal.

  * * *

  Ben watched Ruth scoot to the kitchen and hid a smile behind his coffee cup. In all the years he'd known her, she hadn't run from any challenge. It was nice to know he flustered her, even if that meant she was avoiding him for the moment.

  Spilling his guts the way he had two nights ago clearly hadn't been his best move, but when he'd seen her safe and content and glowing from the Mediterranean sun… well something clicked.

  He knew himself well enough to understand the motivations. A life threatening standoff forced a man to look in the mirror and ask the hard questions.

  Ruth had been out of town during her niece's recent trouble, returning after the worst of it had been cleaned up and settled. The gossip hadn't diminished yet, but hearing it third hand was different than being in it.

  No matter what Ruth thought about his 'staring down the barrel of his mortality' as she'd put it, his feelings for her weren't going away. If he had to face it, had to deal with the deepening consequences of sleeping together, she should too.

  Hopefully she'd come around soon so they could get through the remainder of their mortality together.

  He'd had enough of being 'just friends' in public and setting a good example for the community. He understood the legal and political responsibilities of his position, and while some would talk, he thought most of Haleswood's citizens would be happy to know they were a couple.

  He was tired of treating their relationship like an undercover operation. As if he was ashamed of her. Or them. Job or not, he had a right to a fulfilling private life. So did she. They both had involved careers and it couldn't possibly be such a shock that he wanted to spend their limited personal time together.

  She could make all the excuses she wanted to make, he knew how deep his feelings for her went. And until she'd closed the lid on that velvet box with a decisive snap, he'd been pretty sure she felt the same way about him. Now he was sweating it out, wondering what her final answer would be.

  "Make way for breakfast, Sheriff."

  He leaned back with an apologetic smile for Heather Morris. The younger sister of one of h
is deputies, she handled the counter most mornings. "Sorry, lost in thought."

  "No problem." She moved a bottle of hot sauce closer and topped off his coffee. A study in efficiency like everything else about the Midnight Rooster. And Ruth.

  His stomach rumbled in anticipation. He could fix for himself at home, but food here tasted better and he didn't have to do the dishes.

  The presentation was perfect, a sure sign Ruth had been doing other things back there. He had the feeling she would've dumped his order in a to-go box given half a chance. But he wasn't going anywhere. She might have said no two nights ago, but he'd bring her around.

  It felt like he'd been in love with her half his life. What was a few more days in the grand scheme of twenty-odd years? He made himself think of winning her heart in terms of days, rather than weeks or months, or he'd get discouraged.

  Truth was, he was tired of holding back, giving her a smile when he wanted to give her a kiss. Holding a coffee mug when he'd rather hold her hand. He might worry that she didn't feel the same, if he hadn't been sharing her bed for nearly a year.

  She could hide in the kitchen now and avoid his proposal, but she didn't hide anything when they were alone. Just because they'd never discussed their feelings didn't mean he didn't feel the emotion making the physical connection that much sweeter.

  His radio sounded, a harsh interruption of his thoughts, and Mrs. Jackson asked permission to forward a call to his cell phone. He scooped another bite of eggs into his mouth while he waited and signaled Heather for a coffee to go.

  "Want me to box this up too?"

  "No, thanks." The phone hummed and jangled with an old-school ring tone. He glanced at the caller ID, but didn't recognize the number. "Sheriff Cochran. How may I help you?"

  "Sheriff, this is Eva Battaglia."

  "Good morning," he said, grinning at her formal greeting. "How are you feeling?" He dropped cash on the counter and grabbed his coat on the way out the door.